Squinting Against The Sun
by Snoaz
Summary: The wind is blowing through her hair, and - it feels like home. Alexandrianshipping.


**A/N:**

**I've been replaying Platinum a lot, and Jasmine standing on Sunyshore's beach is one of my favourite scenes in the game. Hence this story. Of course, I couldn't exclude Volkner; it's not a coincidence she's in Sunyshore of all places, right? **

**Thanks to _Ibuberu _for the bèta!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon. If I did, I would have made Volkner stand next to Jasmine and have them gaze out over the sea together. Wouldn't that be quite the picture?  
**

* * *

Squinting Against The Sun

"I-I'm Jasmine."

The man looks at her with something close to interest, though toned down in intensity; his power and persona are such that expression get subdued.

(The inevitable consequence of life, Jasmine knows, because one can't have all).

"Are you not the Gym Leader of Olivine?"

Jasmine nods. There's something stirring in her stomach - it's the perception of unknowable things that life throws at her; of things she looks for herself.

He extends a hand, and after a heartbeat of hesitation she shakes it with determination.

"It's Volkner."

* * *

The water washes around her feet, just as soothing as yesterday; its motion neither rushed nor stagnant, merely an ever-recurring pattern of retreat and attack.

Her life should be like that. It should be balanced; it should be filled with experience. She should know what to do by now (and what not).

But here she is nonetheless, looking out over the sea of Sinnoh, _not _knowing what to do next.

Life is a postcard flipped up on the wrong side; beautiful to look at, yes - the sea and the mountains and all the wonderful harmony between people and Pokémon – but if only she could see the contents. If only she could read the rules.

Her fists tighten, because she _knows _what she is supposed to do. She should get stronger, in contests, in battles, in life; and she can do it with the help of her partners.

It is not a question. It's a given.

(And the thought of Volkner flashes through her mind before she can stop it, his blond hair illuminated against a clear blue sky. And oh – she could learn from him; she could, she could, she _should_)_. _

* * *

"I am here to battle you!"

It is blurted out before something like hesitation can seep into her voice._ Dedication; self-belief; strength, _it echoes in her head, like a voice-recording on repeat; and Jasmine almost flinches from the fact that she still needs those kind of encouragements.

(She is but a trainer asking for a battle).

Volkner regards her from above whatever project he is working on – she can detect wires and metal and occasionally bright electric sparks, all in sync with the feeling of high-tech the Gym exudes – and doesn't say anything at first. Then, "I don't really do those anymore."

Jasmine feels herself blinking and not knowing what to say.

"But – you're a Gym Leader!" she stutters at last, and immediately feels so very _childlike _for having said that. Nevertheless she goes on, more determined this time, and states, "A Gym Leader's task is to accept battle requests from trainers so that both may gain strength and respect for each other. That is what battles are for, and that is the purpose of your position!"

Without really being aware of it, her hands have clenched into fists and she's pretty sure that there's a determined – _lecturing_, almost – look on her face. She feels herself getting a bit ashamed of this speech, because who is _she _to lecture _him, _and what does she know in the first place? But harmony between Pokémon and trainers and all other aspects in this wide world are what matter to her most, and she can't let it go by unsaid.

Volkner fiddles with some sort of device, his expression blank and bored – and his tone just as much when he says, "I know that." She feels herself go red again. It had merely been notes from the Pokémon Association she'd been repeating.

"There's just not much to challenge me these days," he almost-sighs, and when he looks up there's something else in his eyes – something that is almost hope, but so diminished in form that it's more like expectancy knowing to get quenched again.

"I'm a Gymleader," she says automatically.

"You are," Volkner answers, and it's as much a confirmation as a lead to something more.

* * *

They battle. It's a good fight, of the kind you only rarely have; and Jasmine loses. She almost wants to add _naturally, _but reminds herself just in time that that would be against her code of conduct. As a Gym Leader she needs to be sure of herself and the outcome of battle alike.

Volkner is sweating a little and his expression (–_mask?_) of boredom has been lifted, replaced by a curious combination of satisfaction and thoughtfulness.

"That was a good battle," he says.

_But not enough to change things, _his eyes add.

* * *

Nonetheless, they keep training together. Jasmine can learn so much from him: she is amazed by his prowess and attack power, by the way his Pokémon cooperate in order to light the battlefield with electricity. She is the Steel-Clad Defence girl, but – attack can be useful as well, and she should not neglect any aspect of training.

Volkner's also learning from her. At least, that's what she thinks – because more often than not a smile appears on his face after training, and the thoughtfulness in his expression gradually gives way to a determination that seems born to be there.

"It was a good thing you decided to train in Sinnoh of all places," he remarks with a frown, and Jasmine cannot help but feel strangely flustered.

* * *

"I got my first Gym Badge using Thunderbolt," Volkner says, "and ever since I've stuck with the Electric Type."

They're on the beach; Volkner's eyes are fixed on the Magnezone that hovers above their heads, surrounded by nothing else but clear blue sky. It is the colour Jasmine identifies most with Sunyshore – a city where clouds are non-existent would be called myth in any setting but this.

She bows her head. Her hands wash through the loose sand, over and over. "I started with Rock Type Pokémon," she begins softly, "but in the end the Steel Type won my heart. Its defence is highest of all Pokémon, and –"

She falters, not knowing how to go on. How to explain her love for this specific type – her love for _all _Pokémon? Words are not her speciality, and at moments like these it feels like the letters are drowning in that treacherous sea called speech.

But then she looks up and sees the way he regards Magnezone – his eyes alert and thinking and genuine - and she knows he understands anyway.

* * *

Training becomes a regularity, and after numerous battles she finally manages to beat him. There's undiminished joy in the way she hugs her Pokémon – this is why she came to Sinnoh; this is what she left her Gym unattended for.

Volkner, meanwhile, goes from shock to unbelief to anger. The frown on his face and the flashing of his eyes are not meant for her, she knows – hopes – but only for himself; he is of the kind not being used to losing.

(Such is the consequence of always being the best.)

He walks away without saying anything, and for a moment Jasmine is afraid she has ruined something (–ruined what?) But he comes back, some time later; and when he looks her in the eye there's both respect and something that could count as repentance.

"Not many people have been able to beat me," he says.

"Not many people have given me such good battles," she answers feebly, and for once allows pride to fill her heart.

* * *

The wind is blowing through her hair, and – _it feels like home. _The way she needs to lift a hand to keep the strands from falling into her eyes and watch the sun become one with the sea; a blend of orange and deep-blue, so peculiar to that once-a-day moment of melancholy and beauty… it all creates a lump in her throat and she doesn't know if it's from sadness or joy.

It's not the same as Olivine, she knows, because there are no Wingull in the sky and the smell of the air is different also. But it's _something; _a replacement as good as it gets, and for that reason her eyes are soft with gratefulness.

"It reminds you of home?" Volkner's voice comes to her in the evening air, and rather than disrupting, it blends in with her melancholic thoughts.

She nods softly.

(Of course she is aware that his eyes had been on her the whole time. This tension she feels does not belong to Olivine).

There's silence for awhile, and then she stutters, reluctantly almost, "I-I'll be leaving for Hearthome soon."

Jasmine doesn't know why she is suddenly feeling so nervous – what has changed these last seconds?

"Hearthome?" Volkner answers with a frown, "what for?"

"…I'll be participating in the Super Contests," Jasmine answers softly – but then smiles. Her heart might be heavy, but the thought of performing on stage with Rusty never fails to brighten things; they have practised so long for this.

"Contests."

Volkner scoffs – and for a moment Jasmine wonders if it is meant for the word itself or the connotation it brings with it.

(She'll be leaving this town with no clouds and only blue sky; a near-perfect copy of Olivine that she will treasure forever. But then she reminds herself that her own sentiments are not necessarily shared with others, and a shameful blush appears on her cheeks).

Before she can elaborate or explain things, though, Volkner continues, "I guess there must be something to it if you're entering, though… everyone has their own ways of getting stronger, and no doubt there're things to gain there too…"

He shortly looks sideways, before looking her in the eye again.

"Good luck."

She nods and smiles – especially when he adds, "Even though I know you're in no need of that with your talents."

Happiness (and pride, and warmth, and – oh, _something) _fills her heart and before she can stop herself she blurts out, "I will come back here!"

Her exclamation goes from intention to promise when he smiles a little.

"I know you will."


End file.
